


Running Up That Hill

by chronicAngel



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Horses, POV Third Person, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: "We should go back to the party," she murmurs, hardly pulling away. Thomas doesn't look convinced at all.





	Running Up That Hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rocket_rach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocket_rach/gifts).



> I'm so sorry for your loss, Rach. I know this can't make it better, but I hope it can help for a little while.

"Thomas Wayne, where are you taking me?" She laughs, her breaths puffing into the chilly air in front of her. He does not answer her, simply continues to half-lead and half-drag her up one of the many hills on the Wayne estate. They have only been away from the party his parents are hosting for perhaps five minutes and she is already anxious that they should turn around to go back. "This is very hard to do in heels, you know," she huffs, but there is still a smile in her voice.

"What, running?"

" _Yes_." He stops suddenly and has to catch her as she nearly falls, tripping over her own feet and the muddy, grassy ground of the hill as she tries to stop behind him.

She stares up at him, her eyes wide. Their breaths mix together in a warm little cloud between them, highlighting how close their faces are, and she is very aware of his arms wrapped around her lower back. "Are you alright? You didn't twist your ankle or anything, did you?" He asks, and if he were any other 19-year-old boy she would suspect he was using concern as an excuse to run his eyes up and down her body. As it is, she feels something warm in her chest as she nods that she is fine, moving one of her cold hands to his cheek and turning his face to look at her again. He seems to take the hint, pulling her up straight again so her chest is pressed up against his and then meeting her in the middle as she leans up to kiss him.

Thomas is strangely warm and she's always thought so. Even with her long-sleeved, ankle-length dress and his coat draped over her shoulders, she is still shivering in the face of the late December weather, just waiting for it to start snowing. Thomas, in contrast, only shivers when she rests her cold hands on his chest to warm them up despite the fact that he is wearing only a white button-up shirt and deep blue slacks. Where previously she thought her lips must have been turning blue with the chill beneath her lipstick, kissing Thomas makes her feel as though she has her face only inches from a fire.

"You're sure you don't need me to carry you the rest of the way or anything?" He asks when they part a moment later.

She fights not to roll her eyes at him. "I don't even know how far _the rest of the way_ is, Thomas," she answers. "But no. I don't need you to carry me." His shoulders relax somewhat, almost mistakable for slouching. _His mother would kill him if she ever thought such a thing_ , she thinks. _My mother would hate him even more_ , she adds, trying not to wince. "That doesn't mean I wouldn't like you to, though," she teases, grinning at him.

He rolls his own eyes and grabs her hand again, leading her slightly more slowly up the hill once more. She still feels as though she is running, though she supposes anything faster than slowdancing feels like running to her in six inch heels even as she has been wearing them to events since she was fifteen.

They reach the crest of the hill and she squints down at a large building at the foot of the other side that looks surprisingly well-managed considering how far from the mansion proper it is. "Alright, Thomas, where are we? What am I looking at?" He shakes his head, refusing to answer, and pulls her, this time to take her down the hill. She has to use the hand that is not holding his to bunch up her skirt in her fist so she doesn't trip over it, and she still nearly tumbles down twice.

"I want to introduce you to someone," he says, holding out an arm to gesture at the entrance of the building once they've reached it. _It looks like there should be a murderer hiding in there_ , she thinks, trying not to wrinkle her nose in distaste. She slowly opens the door, and nearly gags at how strong it smells in there. Whatever it is, it's distinctly animal. She looks back at Thomas over her shoulder and only takes another step inside when he nods, trying to reassure her.

Around her, there are four horses, all huge. She has never seen a horse in person before, as her father was never fond of them and her mother is allergic to hay, but the ones in the Waynes' stable are all nearly twice her size, or so it feels. "We used to have a lot more, but as Gotham continues to grow, it's been a lot harder for them. The Wayne estate is certainly big, but it's not big enough for a dozen horses to properly roam the yards anymore. My father made the decision to sell the older ones." _Perhaps you'd have room for them if your parents weren't constantly building more unattached buildings. It's no wonder they're stuck all the way out here_.

"We couldn't get rid of these four, though. They're just too special to us," he says, moving over to one of the steeds and resting his hand on its snout. She stares in horror at his feet, the shoelaces of his nice shoes getting bits of hay stuck to them.

He gestures at her to walk over and she thinks he must be insane. She thinks she must be, too, as she does it anyway. "This one's Brioche." She raises an eyebrow at him and his ears actually turn red. "Aggie and I named him when she was 6 and I was 4," he defends. She laughs and he scowls at her, taking her hand and leading her to the next horse. Unlike the last one, which was a giant black stallion, this one is almost pure white, with small flecks of grey on his forehead. "This is Jericho. He's my mother's horse, though she hasn't ridden him since Aggie got sick." Agatha Wayne, Thomas' sister, has been sickly and frail since she was fourteen. _Seven years_ , she thinks, her heart throbbing for the horse. "The mare in the corner," he says, gesturing without moving. "Is Hestia. She's easily spooked, so we don't really bring people outside of the family close to her."

Then he pulls her to the final horse, a large chestnut male who looks strikingly similar to Hestia. As though sensing her thoughts, Thomas chimes, "This is Apollo. He's Hestia and Brioche's son. He was born when I was 12." Immediately, she can see that this is really _Thomas' horse_. All of the others were technically horses that Thomas owned, horses that Thomas was fond of, but the way he immediately presses his forehead to Apollo's nose and scratches his neck tells her that this is _his_ horse.

"He's beautiful," she breathes, taking a hesitant step toward the gelding. For some reason, she expects him to spook. He does not, blinking slowly as he turns his head to look from Thomas to her. He dips his head forward in time with her lifting her hand to scratch his snout, and in her heels she can reach to scratch between his ears. It seems to be a good spot, as he snorts and then nudges her arm with his nose like a cat bumping their head into your hand.

"Isn't he?" Thomas asks, sounding excited. As though he was worried they might not like each other. "Mom used to say that he could win shows, if I wanted to take him to that sort of thing. She always said he was almost as handsome as Jericho." He leans in to whisper to her. "I think he's more handsome. Don't tell Jericho. He has a temper."

She laughs a little at how enthusiastic he is, feeling her cheeks warm up. "I love you," she says, without even meaning to. Thomas' eyes snap immediately from Apollo to her, then back again as though consulting the horse to make sure he just heard her correctly. Apollo snorts in what she presumes to be disinterest, flicking his tail and taking a small step back from the both of them. Thomas treats this like an answer, staring at her in astonishment, and then he crashes forward into her with a hug and she stumbles back, but it is okay because it is only a moment before he has lifted her completely off the ground and spins her around.

She yelps and then laughs again, throwing her arms around his neck to secure herself and curling her toes to secure her shoes from flying off. Her skirt puffs up with the air and finally she gently smacks her palm against his back, demanding that he put her down because her legs are going to freeze off. When he puts her back down on the ground, she is dizzy and has to steady herself with her hands on his shoulders for a minute. "I love you too, Martha Kane," he says, and she can't stop the grin that breaks her face. This time it is him resting his hands on her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss.

They don't pull apart until Apollo whinnies, and she hears it as a loud _Get a room_. "We should go back to the party," she murmurs, hardly pulling away. Thomas doesn't look convinced at all. "We can come back another time. Maybe you can teach me to ride?" He hums and then nods, taking her hand again.


End file.
